Consequences Of A Simple Bet
by Devour
Summary: Wilson bets House that he hasn't got what it takes to ask someone out on a date. Expectedly, House rises to the challenge, but his unexpected choice leads to some interesting situations.
1. The Terms

**Disclaimer:** On the 753872938th day, God said, "let there be House." And so it was done. Unfortunately, it wasn't done by me. Therefore, I own nothing.

**Author's note:** This was the first fic I ever started, but it kind of sat on my computer unfinished for a while before I picked it up again. Therefore I should probably apologise in advance for any OOC-ness that I'm sure is floating around. Hopefully there's not too much of it though, because I'd hate to butcher the House/Wilson relationship since it's my absolute favourite!

* * *

The door to Exam Room One swung open with a decisively annoyed _thump_. A boyish face poked itself through the gap created.

"You called?"

"I need a consult."

Doctor Wilson cast his eyes around the room, his head turning a half circle as he surveyed the surroundings. Surroundings which happened to contain only one other face - that of his close friend, Doctor House.

"Well? Where's the patient?"

"We're diagnosing her in her absence."

Sighing, Wilson shut the door and approached the man who sat before him, twirling his cane with an innocent expression on his face. It was this expression which told Wilson that the imminent 'consultation' would take a while.

"Symptoms?"

"Actually, I was hoping that you'd be able to tell me of them."

A creased brow and a hand-on-the-hip stance betrayed Wilson's apparent confusion. He kept his mouth shut, however, as he knew well that remaining silent was the path to take at present. Knowing House, the point would not be far behind this enigmatic response.

Sure enough, less than a minute had passed before the man put down his cane and pierced his friend's golden brown eyes with his own icy blue orbs.

"You see, you have rather more experience than I at being rejected on the issue of dates."

Accustomed as he was to House's unconventional penchant for approaching conversations backwards, it took but a few seconds for Wilson to deduce his friend's meaning.

"Cameron?"

No response.

"She asked you out?"

A barely perceptible nod of the curly haired head confirmed his supposition.

"And you said no."

This time, it wasn't a question. They'd been through many topics before in the same manner: he knew that he had ascertained House's meaning, House knew that he knew, thus there was no need to say any more on what had already happened. The unique companionship shared between the two doctors afforded them this privilege, at least.

"So... what now?" Wilson asked the question tentatively, unsure as to how this probing of his friend's unpredictable emotions would be received.

House stood up, limping across the room in as best an imitation of pacing as his bad leg would allow. "That's what you're here for."

"You want me to talk to her?"

"And that would achieve what?" House rolled his eyes. "No, I want you to tell me how this will affect her."

It was now Wilson's turn to feign exaggerated exasperation. "So you don't care about her at all, you reject her request for a date, and now you want to know how she feels about-"

"More specifically," House said loudly, speaking over the top of his friend, "how it will affect her ability to do her job."

There was a pause as Wilson considered the implications of this question. "Don't you think Cameron's a bit more professional than that?"

"What I _think_ isn't important, all that matters is what I _know_: if she lets this get even slightly in the way of doing her job properly, then-"

"-you can pull her back into line-"

"-by which time it's too late. She's already screwed up and killed someone."

"House. She'll be fine."

"You sure? Dejection after rejection has never led you to do something stupid?"

"Nothing that harmed anyone else, no. Look, I'm sure that Cameron is mature enough to handle anything you throw at her. Now, you, on the other hand..."

Wilson trailed off with a meaningful glance in House's direction. But he either didn't notice or, as was more likely, refused to take the bait.

"The fact that _you_ told _me_ about this rather than my having to worm it out of you as per usual suggests that it actually means something to you."

He was prepared for the defensive retort. "What's there to mean? She asked me to dinner, I rejected her. Big deal."

Wilson looked at the other doctor, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "You really have no idea what it takes to ask someone out, do you?"

House raised his eyebrows as he held the gaze that was directed towards him. "Are we still talking about Cameron here?"

His companion looked away, but pressed his point. "Well? Do you?"

"Course not. Never had to ask, myself; you know how I'm a real chick magnet. Can't get them off me. Must be the cane or something, the cripple thing is a real turn on." House paused in his speech to wave the mentioned object in front of Wilson's face. "But if it came to it, which it wouldn't, I'm sure there's nothing to it. How hard can it be to spit out a few words?"

"Huh." Wilson glanced at him with a disbelieving expression.

"Anyway, that sounds like the attitude of a teenager. You shouldn't assume everyone is as immature or chicken as you are."

"Yeah? Fifty bucks says you haven't got the guts to ask someone out. In the next hour."

"So this is your cunning plan to get me on a date. Not going to happen."

"A hundred-"

"You think I'm so easily won over? You should know me better."

"-and five hours of clinic duty."

That stopped House in his tracks. He paused in his pacing, considering the offer.

"I just have to ask someone out for a date?"

A nod indicated the affirmative.

"Do they have to say yes?"

Wilson snorted. "Only you would try to escape the date part of a bet where you have to ask someone out on a date."

"Ah, but wasn't the point of this bet to get me to experience the supposed gut-wrenching terror of having to do the asking?"

"I suppose so," was the rather reluctant response. There was a pause as the terms of the bet were mulled over. "Alright, they don't have to say yes, but the person you ask has to like you enough such that agreement is a possibility. Asking a random five year old on the street hardly inspire nervousness."

"Damn, and that five year old was looking like such an attractive option."

"So we're on then?"

"Fine with me."

Wilson chuckled as he got up to leave. "I'll be waiting at your office in an hour to collect my money." He was already halfway out the door when the gruff voice called him back.

"Wilson."

"What now?"

"Will you go out with me?"


	2. The Response

**Author's note:** Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! Enjoy this new installment.

* * *

"Excuse me?" Taken aback, Wilson's response was automatic. 

"Tonight. Dinner. How about it?"

His companion opened his mouth to reply, before closing it again when he realised that his brain hadn't quite devised the right words to respond with. He finally settled on a rather shaky reply. "You're asking me on a date?"

House sighed in an imitation of frustration. Producing a small rubber ball from his pocket, he bounced it against the wall before readdressing the doctor before him.

"No, I'm asking the goldfish in the room who also happens to be called Wilson. He's quite a good looking specimen, if you're into that gaping wide-mouthed look."

Wilson was too fazed even to counter the jibe. It took a few blinks before he was able to formulate a slightly coherent argument.

"You can't use _me_ to fulfill your side of the bet."

"And why ever not?" The demand was thrown back at him with twice the force.

"Because I'm a guy."

It was only after the words were out of Wilson's mouth that he realised how juvenile they sounded. He looked away, embarrassed, although it was difficult to ascertain whether this was caused by the ridiculous manner in which the sentence was blurted out, or the actual meaning behind the words themselves.

"Really?" House's eyes were wide with mocking surprise as he ignored Wilson's obvious discomfiture. "And for all these years, I was going around thinking you were a woman. Thought I could persuade to sleep with me. Well, guess I've got no more use for you now. Time to say goodbye to our friendship."

"Don't be ridiculous, House. I said that you-"

"-had to ask someone who liked me, so that there was a chance of them accepting my request."

"Yes, but-"

"You never specified that said someone had to be of a particular gender."

Wilson leaned against the bench, staring vacantly out the window as he set his memory on rewind. He mentally reviewed what had happened, trying to remember what he had and hadn't said.

"I must have mentioned something..." The muttered statement didn't sound convincing to either party.

Kneading the rubber ball in his hand, House was unable to keep a gleeful grin from spreading across his face. "Not a letter. Didn't even use the word 'she' or anything. Some would say that was foolish."

Wilson shook his head. "But you said yourself, the point was that there'd be a chance of them saying yes. You know that there's no chance of any man you know accepting you. So the implication was that you had to ask a woman."

"And when have you ever known me to pay attention to what you've _implied_ as opposed to what you've _said_?"

Wilson grimaced. Pressing his advantage, House continued. "Besides, if hospital gossip is to be believed, you've been harbouring deep feelings for me since that Christmas party where you shoved an empty beer bottle in my hand and proclaimed that it was a symbol of your undying love."

His friend blinked, momentarily sidetracked. "I did what? Which Christmas was that?"

"That would be... three years ago this December."

"The one where I was out by midnight?"

"I'm surprised you even remember that much, I mean-"

"Stop changing the subject!" Wilson crossed his arms, glaring at House. "The point is, you can't use _hospital gossip_ to justify your assumption that I'd go on a date with you. Everyone knows how false it all is."

"Until it becomes true."

"What's that supposed to mean? Everybody lies, but the rumours they spread are true?"

A sideways glance and a slight twitch of the lips betrayed House's amusement. He was always entertained by the attempts of his associates in coming up with variations to his infamous two word maxim.

"If anyone heard that you asked me out-"

"-which they wouldn't-"

"-they'd talk. They already are."

"About what?"

An audible sigh escaped Wilson's lips.

"Didn't you just say it? Us."

"Is this your way of convincing me that I have to ask someone else to win the bet? Let me just point out that firstly, you're the one who cares about what everyone says, not me, and secondly, I've already asked you so your comments are made redundant by their late timing. Besides, you're just being paranoid. Or homophobic. One of the two."

Wilson shifted uneasily.

"Face it. This one's mine. Don't you think it's time you gave up?"

The man House was addressing looked at his feet as he kept a determined silence. He was clearly continuing in his quest to find a loophole, and just as obvious was the fact that he was failing miserably in this pursuit.

"I did exactly as you termed. Want me to spell it out for you? I asked someone on a date. Need more? That person likes me - or at least, they did at the time of asking; perhaps their feelings towards me have become slightly more antagonistic since then. Losing tends to do that to people."

Seeing no way out, Wilson sighed in resignation and raised his eyes to meet those of his friend. "Fine, fine, you win. This time."

"Knew you'd see it my way eventually."

Argument won, House stood up, tossing his ball to Wilson as he made his way to the door.

"Oh, and House."

He turned to face his friend once more.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

House paused momentarily.

"I was going to wait for a few hours before collecting my winnings, but if you're so eager to give me the money now, I suppose I'll just have to take it."

Wilson laughed. "Actually, I was going to say... what time are you coming to pick me up?"

"What?"

"The only reason you asked me is that you think you can count on me not saying yes. That way you wouldn't have to actually take anyone out, right? Well, don't think I'm going to make it that easy for you."

The metaphorical cogs turned as House processed this information.

"So... you actually do want to go out with me?" For the first time in their conversation, his expression registered a slight surprise.

Wilson shrugged. "Well, yeah. Sure."

"That's a rather large change of tune. What happened to the Mr I-may-be-your-friend-but-I'd-never-date-you-because-I'm-a-guy-and-people-would-talk of a few minutes ago?"

"He disappeared and was replaced by a Mr I'd-never-pass-up-the-opportunity-to-go-out-for-dinner-when-you're-paying-plus-it-can't-hurt-since-you've-  
already-asked."

House narrowed his eyes. "Fine. I'll drop by at six thirty."

Somewhat satisfied, Wilson breezed through the door. House looked up just in time to see his small rubber ball flying through the air towards him. He reached out and caught it with one hand, turning it in his hands thoughtfully.

"You were wrong, by the way." His voice was loud enough to carry the words into the hallway. "That wasn't even a little nerve-wracking."


	3. The Date

**Author's note:** Sorry for the delay in getting this up! I've recently finished watching the Tritter arc in for the first time and it really killed my motivation for writing any House/Wilson scenes for a few days. Anyhow, new chapter's here now, and I tried to make it... um, different? Yeah. I'll only say two more things - one, it was a blast to write but also pretty tough; and two, hopefully it lives up to you guys' expectations of their date. Hee!

* * *

The clock was striking the nineteenth hour of the day as the two figures approached the restaurant. Both men paused a few steps away from the large double doors that formed the entrance to the building before them. 

"What is this place?"

"Just a restaurant I thought we could try out."

House's response was casual. Too casual. Wilson squinted, trying to make out the name of the restaurant in the dying light of day.

"Wait a second..."

Having moved closer, Wilson was at last able to read the sign that was planted in the doorway.

"House."

"Yeah?" Once again, the reply was spoken in a nonchalant tone that did not bode well.

Wilson glanced once more at the sign. He blinked several times, trying to convince himself that he'd read the words wrong, but to no avail. "'Queens Drag Theatre Restaurant'?"

"Yes, I do happen to possess the ability to read, you know."

House fancied that the look Wilson shot him was almost accusatory.

"You're taking me out to a drag theatre restaurant?"

"Well, I wanted to pick somewhere nice and respectable, since this is a date and all. The usual Chinese takeaway just wouldn't seem right."

"Because you're _so_ big on doing things right."

"Obviously."

"Huh." Wilson didn't bother trying to hide his disbelief. "So this is where you end up when you're going for 'nice and respectable'. That explains a lot."

House chose to respond by limping towards the door. "You coming or not?"

Wilson sighed. "Give me one good reason as to why we shouldn't go find somewhere else to eat."

His friend paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"I hear the spaghetti bolognaise here is excellent." The statement was thrown over his shoulder as he pushed the door open and entered the building.

"You don't even like pasta!" Wilson's exasperated reply landed on thin air. Shaking his head, he had no choice but to follow House inside.

The first thing he noticed upon his entrance was that the restaurant was surprisingly warm and well-lit. Casting his eyes around the room, he saw a small bar at the back which stood opposite a raised platform that was supposedly the stage.

Seated a few tables away from this set up was House. The man was perusing a menu, apparently at ease. Glancing around the room apprehensively, Wilson made his way towards his companion for the night and dropped himself onto an empty chair. He found himself presented with a second menu as House waved a waiter over.

"I'll have the chicken schnitzel with wedges."

"A vegetarian lasagne for me, thanks."

The waiter took down their orders, tearing off a receipt and placing it on the table. "That's seventeen dollars and forty cents."

House gestured over the table towards Wilson. "He's paying."

"What? But _you're_ the one who asked _me_ out!"

"And _you're_ the one who owes _me_ a hundred bucks for performing the act you just mentioned."

Wilson scowled as he reached into his pocket to pull out the money. Having paid the bill, he lapsed into silence, fiddling with the salt shaker which sat on the table. He tapped his foot restlessly against his chair, seemingly agitated.

Almost a minute of this behaviour had passed before House opened his mouth.

"If this is how you pass all your dates, I'm no longer surprised at how quickly you go through women."

Ceasing his fidgeting, Wilson let out a strangled laugh.

"Not all of my dates were at a drag restaurant with a male friend."

House paused thoughtfully. "Well, being seen at a drag restaurant can't be bothering you," he mused aloud, "because anyone who sees us here will also be in said restaurant, and _their_ mortification would surely lessen _yours_. So it must be the dating a male friend thing."

Wilson looked away. His silence was enough to confirm his friend's presumption.

"May I remind you that this bet was _your_ idea?"

"Yes, and asking me was _your_ idea!"

"And accepting me was yours."

"It was a spur of the moment thing."

"More like a trying to get the better of me thing. Regretting it now, are we?" House snorted. "I thought you were over that, anyway. Stop being so damn paranoid! I mean, remind me, when was the last time we went out for dinner? We mustn't do it very often, I forget."

"That's completely... oh shit."

House raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I know arguing with me is tough, but there's no need to swear every time you lose. If that were the case, Chase would never shut up; I'd have to fire him for improper conduct."

"No, it's-"

Wilson's eyes flickered back to meet those of his friend, but the keen-eyed House managed to catch the quick glance he made towards the door.

"Just... forget it."

It was only inevitable, then, that House would turn around. His searching eyes instantly alighted on the figure standing at the front counter. He smirked as he recognised her face.

"Oi! Cuddy!"

Not expecting to hear her name being called out across a drag theatre restaurant, Cuddy looked up in surprise. It took a few seconds before she was able to discern a familiar face amidst the tables before her. She quirked an eyebrow at House and began making her way towards them.

Wilson blanched visibly. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Proving to you that I'm right. To everyone else, we just look like two friends out for dinner."

A sigh could be heard escaping Wilson's lips, but he managed to bite back his next protest. Both men plastered grins onto their faces as they turned to address the approaching Cuddy.

House was the first to open his mouth. "What a lovely surprise."

"I had no idea that you were into the drag scene, House. After all this time, you'd think that nothing you do could shock me any more, but there you go."

"Not me. Wilson here loves this kind of thing though. Has some good taste."

"Yeah, you especially would look great with a dress and fake breasts, House." Wilson's remark was dry as he cast a sideways glance at his friend.

Cuddy winced. "That's one nasty image."

"I choose to take that personally." House twisted his features into a pout. "What are you doing here anyway? You don't have Wilson to use as a pretext for being in this place."

"Just picking up some takeaway. The spaghetti bolognaise here is really good."

"Not staying for the show, then?"

"Sorry to disappoint."

She turned to notice that her order was ready at the front counter.

"Have fun, boys. I'll see you tomorrow; try not to come to work too hungover."

"Neither of us would _ever_ be so irresponsible. Right, House?"

House widened his eyes innocently. "Me? Hungover at work? Never."

"Men." With one last shake of the head, Cuddy left their table. As soon as she was out the door, House faced his friend with a triumphant look. Wilson sighed.

"I suppose this is the part where you-"

"House, I'm sorry for not agreeing with you immediately." House's tone was a surprisingly accurate imitation of Wilson's lighter voice.

"-say 'I told you so'. But that'll do too."

"_Now_ will you relax?"

Wilson's resigned nod was accompanied with a somewhat exasperated expression and a nervous glance around the restaurant, but it was enough to satisfy House.

"Good. The show starts soon. C'mon, let's go get some drinks."


	4. The Aftermath

**Author's note:** And we hit the end! This chapter contains a slashy moment that I couldn't resist adding in, just as a warning for those who don't like that sort of thing. Thanks to all my readers, especially the reviewers amongst you, who have stuck with this story!

* * *

"The way you drive that thing makes you a health hazard." Wilson gestured towards the motorbike behind them as the pair walked towards the door of his apartment block. "I don't even know if I'd call it driving... it's more like you think you're playing some game on your Gameboy. Seriously, why haven't they taken you off the road yet?"

"Because I'm a perfectly capable driver." House rolled his eyes as if he were stating the obvious.

"More like a guy that's too old to be treating everything with an engine like a toy."

House glared at his friend as they entered the building. Frowning, he transferred his glare to the open stairwell before him.

"Couldn't you have picked an apartment with an elevator? Or at least one with less floors?"

"You say that every time you come here. And every time, I reply with-"

"-life doesn't revolve around you. I thought you'd have come up with something a bit more original by now. Creativity not your strong point?"

"I'm working on it. You don't have to come up, you know."

House looked offended that his friend would even suggest such a thing. "Hey, you're my date. Common etiquette says I have to see you to your door."

"Does common etiquette mention anything with regards to compaining about said action?" Wilson rolled his eyes with good humour. "It's only three floors anyway."

"So says the man with two perfectly functioning legs."

Shaking his head, Wilson began to make his way up the stairs. He paused at the top of the first flight to wait for his friend to catch up. House threw a few words over his shoulder as he passed.

"How'd you find tonight then?"

"It was... interesting."

Even House had trouble discerning whether Wilson's tone indicated a positive or negative response.

"Bet your wives never took you to anywhere that 'interesting'-"

"Frankly, I can't say that they did."

"-or any of your blonde thingys."

"Speaking of which, I think that the blonde one from tonight had a thing for you."

House paused as he cast his mind back to the performers at the theatre restaurant.

"The one in the pink dress? Told you I was popular with the... ladies." Wilson snorted at the euphemism. "It's definitely the cane. You should get one, you know. It'd work much better for you than those ties that you're always changing."

They had reached the door to Wilson's apartment. He rummaged through his pockets for the key, glancing up to see House rearranging his features to hide the snigger that had been apparent a few seconds ago.

"And you would know... how?"

"I know you're not getting any right now. You haven't polished your shoes in weeks; clearly there's been no one worth polishing them for."

"Must you analyse every aspect of what I wear to work?"

"Must you make the clothes you wear to work so easy to analyse?"

Wilson sighed. "You've can't talk anyway, since I don't suppose you're 'getting any' either."

"The term 'getting any' is relative."

This response caused his friend to raise an eyebrow.

"Do you want to come in?"

"Is that a 'do you want to come in to have a beer', or a 'do you want to come in to sleep with me'?"

Wilson laughed as he twisted the key in the lock and pushed open the door. He found his path blocked, however, by the cane that had been raised to bar the doorway. He turned to face the owner of the cane with an inquiring stare.

"Generally, a date that went well ends with a kiss at the door."

Wilson was unable to tell if the statement was said seriously or in jest. He was similarly unsure as to whether it was the beer coursing through his body or the strangely intense look in House's eyes that caused him to suppress the objection that rose to his lips in response to the question.

Realising that his mouth suddenly seemed dry, he swallowed in a vain attempt to rid himself of this new feeling.

"Are you going to kiss me, then?"

Almost as if he saw this as an invitation, House reached forward and, with a surprisingly gentle touch, ran his fingers down the side of Wilson's face. Tilting his friend's chin up, he leaned in to capture Wilson's mouth with his own.

They remained joined at the lips for an indeterminable amount of time - mere seconds or long minutes; neither could tell. But when they reluctantly broke away from each other, both immediately noticed the subtle shift in the air around them. The atmosphere now swirled with a combination of arousal and anticipation, and each found that he was unable to tear his face further than an inch away from the other.

Wilson was the first to break this silence.

"So... do you want to come in?"

"You already asked me that."

"You never did answer me the first time."

Remembering what he _had_ responded with the last time he had been faced with this question, House's lips twitched upwards in a small smile.

"I'm guessing that _your _answer to _my _question would be different now?"

This time, it was Wilson who initiated the kiss in response. He opened his lips slightly, allowing House to slide his tongue into his mouth. After a brief period in which each fought to assert dominance over the other, Wilson slid his tongue along House's jawbone, pausing to nibble on the sensitive skin underneath his ear. House leaned against the doorframe for support, exhaling heavily as Wilson nipped the vulnerable area.

"If this is how you end all your dates, I'm no longer surprised at how quickly you can get yourself into someone's pants."

House's voice was a mere gasp, and Wilson smirked as he sucked on his earlobe.

"Do you think this is one of those 'we'll regret it in the morning' moments?" The whispered tones were huskily breathed into House's ear.

Wilson found himself pushed back slightly so as to be faced with a powerful blue stare. Both men noted that their partner's gaze was clouded with a mist of desire.

"Do you?"

His breathing was somewhat ragged, but Wilson's voice was steady as he answered without hesitation.

"No."

House, too, smirked.

"Neither."

He pulled his date into his arms once more and together they stumbled through the door.


End file.
